


In the fading light, she drew

by recurringdreams



Category: American Actor RPF, Chris Evans - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Charcoal, Drawing, F/M, Fluff, Heartbreak, Romance, This was supposed to be a nice gift and it turned out sad, well shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 20:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1871934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/recurringdreams/pseuds/recurringdreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the fading light, she drew and he surprised her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the fading light, she drew

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rosebudwhite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosebudwhite/gifts).



In the fading light, she drew.

“What’s your favourite urban legend?” His voice shocked her out of her reverie. She had been drawing – or at least, attempting to draw – the trees, framed by the window, broken in the last storm, and had completely lost track of time, watching the leaves flutter, the branches skritch and scratch at the walls of the building.

It was a horrible noise, but she didn’t want to move. Everything felt sort of nice here, sort of cold, sort of warm – dependent on the angle she was sat at – and there hadn’t been any noise until Chris’ voice had echoed through the near empty room.

“My what?” She tilted her head up, taking him in through the colours of the sunset. His hair haloed around his head, shimmering reddish in the glow of the evening. “Urban legend?”

“Yes, silly. You know, like the alligators in the sewer? Or the one about the guy in the window?” She tilted her head further to the side. She wasn’t into it like he was, her dark side stretched sexually, rather than fictionally, but she had watched him sit on his laptop until all hours of the night, reading horror manga, shrieking aloud at horror films.

“I really wouldn’t know,” She shrugged.

“Oh, _Rose,”_ he shook his head, unimpressed as he sat down beside her, then changed his mind, shuffled her forward and slipped his arms around her stomach, pulling her back to rest against his shoulder. She whined softly, aches appearing from where he had disturbed her still form, and wriggled against him, “surely there’s something scary that you love?”

“Other than you with your creepy beard?”

“Shut up!” Playful, he dug gently at her ribs, rubbing and tickling until she was squealing with laughter, her charcoal crushed in her fist and flaking all over her hand. “You loved my beard the other day.”

“I love it most days, until you look like a weird lumberjack.” She gasped, still trying to catch her breath, and he pressed his face into her shoulder. Soft, gentle scratch, like the paws of a kitten or the tongue of a tiger, worked at her neck. She whimpered and licked her lips, trying to turn to look at him, but his forehead nudged her cheek away. “Meanie.”

“Says you!” another dig to her ribs, “I like my beard long. You like my beard long.”

“I like something long,” She giggled, and he rolled his eyes again, gently clutching at the picture she had been drawing. “Careful, Chris, the charcoal-“

But he had gone quiet, watching her, then the art, then back to her again. His fingers still played gently at her hips, running them up, down, back, forth, as he studied the page, lips pursed, eyes alight, interested.

“This art is giving you ideas.” He said eventually, forced mirth in his tone. “I let you draw me once, and you’re unable to get it out of your head.” Quietly, he set the page aside, looking away from her, out at the trees.

“What?” She looked up at him, “I’m drawing the trees?”

“Oh, so I’m a tree now?” He gestured silently at the page. To the side of the paper, watching from the shadows, he stood. He hadn’t been there all that long, but she had captured his face. The wanting, the needing, as he stood, stock still in the corner of the room, watching her.

He was presiding over her, eyes live, glittering in charcoal as she watched her thumb lift to smudge over his face. He stilled her hand with his own, holding her tighter.

“That’s how you see me, isn’t it?” He whispered, “Need, and want and…”

“You were watching me.” She returned, turning, twisting in his arms to look at him. “how could I have missed the expression on your face?”

“You could have tried.” He whispered softly, “Rose, you know you’re not supposed to. You’re not supposed to draw me now. Not anymore.”

“But… Chris-”

“No, Rose. We’ve been over it.” Now his voice was stern, and as she turned, she watched him blur at the edges, eyes less alight, colour fading. “There are rules.”

“I don’t want there to be.” She whispered over the soft scratch of the branches, “I’m not allowed to remember you any more.”

“Yes, my love,” He whispered, hand covering hers, “You can remember me all you like.” His thumb played gently at her knuckle, “But…” There was a pause.

“I can’t draw you again. It would scare…”

“Everyone.” He whispered, closing his arms tight around her again. “The world isn’t ready.”

“I am.”

I know,” he murmured, kissing her temple, the soft brush of static against her skin, “Which is why I’m still here.” _But faded now,_ she wanted to whisper, the cool touch of her engagement ring against her finger a reminder of what would have been.

“Don’t go.”  She whispered. “I don’t like to watch you go.”

“I’ve spent hours watching you walk away, beautiful.” He whispered, “And now you tell me my ass isn’t worth your time?”

“It’s not-“

“I know,” He kissed her temple again, the furr of static disappearing once more. “It’s not easy.”

She nodded mutely against the darkness, clinging onto the feel of his arm around her waist. After a little while, her fingers connected with the soft silk of her shirt, and she know, for another day, he was gone. The window pane creaked, briefly, and she considered the shattered glass that lay at the bottom.

Standing, she lifted one of the shards from the floor, held it between her fingers. In the fading light, she drew. 


End file.
